


The Sins of our Fathers

by justbecauseyoubelievesomething



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angel!Emma, CSSNS, F/M, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-05-21 10:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14913467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbecauseyoubelievesomething/pseuds/justbecauseyoubelievesomething
Summary: Emma Swan was dedicated to the gods at birth. For years she has worked as one of the personal messengers of Zeus himself; one who is dedicated to carrying out justice for humanity. When the cry for justice comes from the murder of her own human parents, Emma finds herself caught between her duty to the gods and her humanity. Matters are only complicated by her instant connection with Detective Killian Jones. Together, can they bring the murderer to justice, or will Emma lose the favor of the gods altogether?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW: there is major character death in the very first chapter and I do go into some graphic details. If blood and death triggers you, please skip and take care of your own mental health. I will do a brief summary at the beginning of the next chapter!

Emma’s skin tingled with the effort of holding back her magic. The anger surging through her veins made it especially difficult.  
“Let me go to them,” she snapped, not bothering to tame her harsh tone.  
The god in front of her shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but didn’t respond to her outburst.  
Emma bit back a snarl at his impassive face. It would do her case no good for her to lose her temper in front of Zeus himself.  
She forced herself to lower her head respectfully. “Please, my lord. Their blood cries out for justice. I am sworn to do my duty.”  
Zeus pursed his lips and nodded a few times to himself. “In the few years you have been in my service, you have proven yourself to be a formidable foe, Emma Swan. Always capable of the task set before her. And then some.”  
Emma kept her head slightly lowered, focused on keeping her harsh breathing under control.  
“This situation does give me pause,” Zeus said and Emma’s heart sank. He strode up the three steps of the dais and seated himself on his throne. Emma tentatively drew a few steps closer.  
“You were once human, Emma,” the god said, his tone strong and pure as steel. “And I fear those human entanglements would do you harm.”  
Emma winced. “My lord…”  
“You may go to them.”  
Emma blinked. “I…?”  
“Yes, you may go to them.” Zeus leaned forward and steepled his fingers together. “But you know the danger you risk. If you let too much of yourself go, if you let too much of me go, I won’t be able to help you anymore.”  
Emma dropped to one knee swiftly. “My loyalty forever rests with you, my lord. I thank you.”  
She stood and turned to walk from the great hall.  
“Emma.”  
She paused.  
“I loved them too. This must be set right.”  
She firmed her lips and strode from the hall, letting the double doors slam closed behind her.

Killian awoke to his Pirates of the Caribbean ringtone blaring at an unearthly volume. He groaned and grabbed his phone, swiping groggily at the glowing screen.  
“Hello?”  
“Killian? It’s Ruby…”  
He let his eyes roll back and tried not to raise his voice. Too much. “Bloody hell, Ruby! You know I’m off this weekend…”  
“I know, I know!” she cut in. “And I’m so sorry. But there’s something you need to know.”  
Killian groaned and tried to prop himself up against the headboard. His head was pounding and he was beginning to wish he’d never let Will talk him into that fourth round of shots.  
“Spit it out, love.”  
“There’s been a murder.”  
The words themselves were familiar, more so than Killian would have liked after spending six years with the Boston P.D. But there was something about the breathlessness in Ruby’s voice that made him shiver a little bit.  
“Put August on it. I’m off!” he spat out.  
“Killian… it happened in Storybrooke.”  
That actually did make him jump a little, promptly smacking the back of his head on the ornate headboard behind him. Ruby ignored his stream of muttered curses.  
“I know it’s your first weekend off in… months… but… considering that you’re already there and considering who it is, I thought that maybe you should know,” she continued.  
Killian worked one palm behind his head, as if he could try to hold together the throbbing pieces of his skull. “Considering who it is? Who is it, Ruby?”  
He could hear her take a deep breath.

The normally serene Storybrooke graveyard was awash in a flood of red, blue, and white light. Killian was forced to park quite a ways back from the crime scene and he groaned internally as he tried to jog up the hill towards the center of the disarray. His eyes were still adjusting and the dizziness and nausea flooding his system wasn’t helping.  
Will and Robin made a good case for a relaxing weekend out. It was the last time Robin was going to be in the states for a while and Will was never one to pass up an opportunity to let loose. Of course, getting drunk in Storybrooke’s sleaziest bar and then immediately heading to bed at Granny’s Bed and Breakfast, probably wasn’t what Will thought of as letting loose. Robin was a stretch more mature than Will, but both of them seemed to think that reliving their teen years as high school drop outs and petty thieves was entertaining and harmless.  
As Killian dodged between gravestones in the dim light, he was cursing any and all ideas of their “harmless” fun. He slipped between the ambulance and sheriff’s car, already digging in his pocket as a short, swarthy man approached him with a grim look.  
“Boston P.D.,” Killian assured him before he could say anything, holding up his badge. He could only hope he sounded steadier than he felt. “Where are the bodies?”  
The man wordlessly pointed him towards the large crypt dominating the center of the circle. Killian nodded his thanks and ducked under the boundary of yellow police tape. His mouth was dry and he wished he’d thought to grab some water before rushing from his room.  
His gaze quickly lit upon a nervous looking young man whose pale complexion was noticeable even in the dark.  
“Are you the Deputy Sheriff?”  
The man started and then a light of recognition came into his eyes.  
“Jones?”  
“Detective,” Killian corrected, out of habit.  
The man brought his hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “Sorry, sir.”  
“It’s alright, Deputy,” Killian sighed. “Do I… know you?”  
The man swallowed and nodded. “Yes, sir. You probably don’t remember me though. I was a couple years below you in school.”  
Killian searched through his memories trying to pull out a name. “Hum..?”  
“Humbert. Graham Humbert. Yes, sir,” the young deputy answered.  
“Right.” Killian resisted another wave of nausea that pulled at his gut. “Show me the scene.”  
“It’s... um... It’s in here, sir,” Graham stuttered, jerking his head towards the open crypt behind him. Killian noticed the thin glow of floodlights shining around the edges of the propped open door.  
“In the crypt?”  
“Yes, sir.” Graham gulped again and his face paled even further. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”  
Killian resisted the urge to snap at the young man for not keeping it together. The throbbing in his temples and the impending weight of doom in his chest were not mixing well. He ignored Graham’s stammered apology and pushed past him to slip through the door.  
The Mills family crypt stood well apart from any of the surrounding graves. It backed up to the forested area that ran along the northeastern section of the graveyard. Alone on the slight hilltop, it looked like an ancient Greek temple, all white marble and intricate carvings. Killian felt the chill from the thickly layered stone interior sink straight through his black leather jacket and into his very bones.  
Graham had set up two floodlights, one in either corner of the spacious room. Both pointed inward, illuminating the simple, but imposing coffin in the middle. But it was the two bodies that made Killian choke.  
A male and female had been placed on either side of the coffin, ropes binding them so that their backs were flush against the cold marble, heads and shoulders tilted back gently as if they were merely resting their heads. But there could be no mistaking the bodies for peaceful sleepers. Shirts had been removed and each one’s chest was nothing but a mass of blood. The metallic smell of it filled the small room and Killian threw his sleeve up to his nose in an effort to keep from vomiting right then and there.  
He stepped carefully around the edge of the sticky red stains on the floor until he could see the face of the male victim, eyes closed peacefully. Killian swallowed and closed his own eyes out of respect for his friend and mentor, Sheriff David Nolan.  
He continued his circle of the coffin, roughly swiping at pinpricks in his eyes. The woman’s face came into view, David’s wife Mary Margaret. Her eyes were still open, but Killian didn’t dare reach out to brush them closed, fearing to disrupt even the most minute details of the crime scene. His lips trembled as he stared into her unblinking gaze, remembering the softness of those eyes as she placed a hand over his needle scars, the strength in them when she taught him how to be a better man.  
He all but ran from the crypt, on the verge of a panic attack. The cool, night air brought some clearness back to his head and he took deep breaths, trying to wash the scent of blood from his nose. It was going to be a long night.  
“Detective Jones?”  
He turned to Graham’s soft voice and saw that the young man was holding out a phone with a shaking hand.  
“We should call their daughter.”  
“Their daughter?” Killian turned the words over in his mouth, trying to make sense of them. A vague memory of a blonde girl and some soccer trophies over the mantle came back.  
“Right.” He blinked and nodded firmly. “Contact her and let her know.”  
“I…” Graham’s face wrinkled and Killian fought the urge to hit the man. “Please, sir. I would rather have you do it.”  
“Deputy,” Killian warned.  
“It’s just that Emma and I… we… have a history,” Graham spit out quickly, neck flushing red. “And I don’t think it would be good for the news to come from me.”  
Killian was about to throw his title behind the order again, but he suddenly stopped and realized that the deputy might have a point. Personal entanglements rarely combined well with situations like this.  
He tried not to think about how that might affect him as well.  
“Alright, Graham. I’ll call the daughter.” He took the proffered cell phone and hit “Emma Swan”. As the call screen lit up, he nodded at Graham. “Case the area. This is an active crime scene for now. And get the forensics team here, stat. I don’t want anyone else in that crypt until then.”  
Graham nodded vigorously and ran to get the gears moving. Killian sighed and put the phone to his ear, listening to the muted ringing. It was probably a long shot that the girl would pick up at this hour. He found himself praying that he could put this part off until…  
“Graham?”  
Killian closed his eyes as the sorrow began to lap at his chest in earnest. “Sorry, lass, this is Detective Jones with the Boston Police Department. Is this Emma Nolan?”  
There were a few seconds of silence. “Emma Swan,” the voice said on the other end. “But yes, Nolan was my given name. Can I help you?”  
Killian swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you Ms. Swan. Are you sitting down?”  
There was another pause. Then, “What happened to Graham?” Then before he could answer, “Just tell me what’s going on, please.”  
Killian cleared his throat. “Your parents were found dead about an hour ago at the Storybrooke Cemetery. We need you to come home and officially identify the bodies.”  
The breeze stirred up goosebumps along the back of Killian’s neck as he listened to the catch in her breathing. The pause was longer this time and he fought the urge to let out a stream of meaningless platitudes. He knew well the sort of emptiness no doubt settling in the girl’s chest. It was something that words couldn’t chase away.  
Finally, she took a breath. “Thank you for notifying me, Detective.” Her voice was firm. “I will catch the first flight to Boston. Hopefully I’ll be in Storybrooke by mid-morning.”  
“If there’s anything I or the force can do for you, please let me know. I’ll be in close contact with Deputy Sheriff Humbert throughout the night so you can reach me through him.”  
“Thank you,” she said softly. Then there was a slight static-filled click and he realized she’d ended the call.  
Killian dropped the phone into his pocket and scrubbed his hands over his face. Images of Mary Margaret and David flew through his head, like a distorted slideshow. He felt David’s warm hand clapping him on the shoulder after he got the results back from his testing in Boston. He smelled the coconut in the overly decorative birthday cake Mary Margaret had insisted on making him for his twenty-first birthday. The look on both of their faces when he woke up after a particularly dangerous overdose.  
Killian wasn’t even aware of sinking to his knees until the mud began to soak through his jeans. He wiped roughly at his damp eyes and frantically looked around the graveyard. Graham had organized the recently arrived forensics team and was distracted in the hustle and bustle. Volunteers were taping off the area. No one was paying attention to the dark haired man mourning his family on the edge of the clearing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary of Chapter 1: Killian's long weekend off from his duties as a Detective with the Boston Police Department is rudely interrupted by the worst thing imaginable: the murder of two of his closest friends and mentors, David and Mary Margaret Nolan. As Killian works the crime scene alongside Deputy Graham he struggles to keep his personal emotions at bay. Meanwhile, the Nolan's mysterious daughter, Emma Swan, will soon be arriving in town.
> 
> No graphic descriptions of blood in this chapter! Obviously the deaths of two major characters will continue to play a huge role in the story.

The morning light brought Killian no joy as he listened to Graham’s discouraging report. No tire tracks near the scene, no footprints, and no signs of struggle. They were dealing with a clean murderer. Aside from the crypt itself.  
“You should get some sleep, Deputy,” Killian said sympathetically as Graham finished talking. The man looked like a zombie.  
“I’m fine for now, sir,” he said giving Killian a terse nod. Killian knew better than to push him. When it was this personal, it was hard to let go for even a second.  
The graveyard was crawling with forensics, both inside the crypt and out. Thanks to the early hour of the crime, the scene was mostly undisturbed, but Killian knew that it wouldn’t stay that way for long. This was Storybrooke after all.  
His phone buzzed and he pulled it out to see a third text from Robin and a missed call from Will. The grapevine must already be in action if the two heaviest drinkers in town were awake enough to reach out to him.  
“Who’s in charge of PR here?” Killian asked Graham.  
Graham leaned wearily against the hood of the Sheriff’s car and crossed his arms. “The department’s too small for PR. It’s always just been me and David.”  
Killian frowned. “We’re going to need to get ahead of the media on this. Who’s running the Mirror these days?”  
Graham sighed and closed his eyes. “Sydney Glass. And he likes sensation, that’s for sure.”  
“I’ll give him a call,” Killian said. “Offer him an interview before he can start snooping around on his own.”  
Graham opened his eyes and stared at him. “That’s… smart.”  
Killian shrugged.  
The birds were beginning to sing in the eaves of the surrounding forest. The strange ghostly hush that had hovered over the scene all night was beginning to break as more people shouted at each other over the headstones and slammed car doors. Killian’s phone buzzed again and he ignored it.  
“We’ll need to do another sweep of the area. A detailed one,” Killian said. Graham didn’t respond as they both thought about the immense amount of time that sweep was going to take.  
“Then we’re going to need to pull some people for questioning,” Killian continued. “Is there a groundskeeper? Someone who would have visited the crypt recently?”  
Graham opened his mouth to reply but a shrill screech from behind them interrupted him.  
Both men turned to see a regally dressed woman marching up the path towards them, eyes blazing with fury.  
“What the hell is this?” she demanded, dark hair bobbing in time with her footsteps.  
Graham withered in her glare, but Killian stepped in front of her.  
“Excuse me, ma’am. This is a crime scene. Police only.”  
“Get out of my way, officer.” The woman’s words were biting, perfectly enunciated. “That’s my family crypt up there and I will not have it desecrated!”  
Killian tilted his head. “Mayor Mills, I presume?”  
She drew back and gave him a scalding smile. “Took you long enough to figure that out. You also should have figured out that people don’t get in my way!”  
Before she could push past him, Graham reached for her arm. “Regina, don’t.”  
She shook her arm violently, throwing him off balance. “Don’t touch me, Deputy!”  
“Whoa.” Killian stepped in between them. “Mayor Mills, your family crypt is currently part of an active crime scene investigation. We can’t let civilians on the scene right now.”  
“This is absurd!” she snapped.  
“Regina, please listen to him,” Graham pleaded. “There’s been a murder and…”  
“Quiet, Deputy,” Killian barked, a bit more forcefully than he’d meant to. Graham immediately shut up.  
Regina narrowed her eyes and took a step back. “A… murder?”  
Killian stifled a sigh. “Mayor Mills, I’m going to have to ask you to come to the station for some routine questioning.”  
“You think I murdered someone?”  
“It’s just routine, I said. This happened on your property.”  
Regina leaned closer to Killian, eyeing him up and down disdainfully. “Who are you to tell me what I should do, Mister Leather?”  
Killian pulled out his badge and stuck it in her face impatiently. “Detective Jones, ma,am.” He watched with some small satisfaction as her eyes widened and she leaned back with a slight “Humph”.  
“Deputy Humbert will give you a ride to the station.” He glanced over his shoulder at Graham and waited for his slight nod. “I’ll be there shortly.”  
“Whatever you say, Detective,” the mayor responded crisply. She side-stepped him abruptly and yanked open the passenger side door of the Sheriff’s car. Graham raised his eyebrows at Killian.  
“She doesn’t know anything.”  
Killian slid his badge away. “Routine, Deputy.”  
“Right.”  
Graham rounded the car and paused before sliding into the driver’s seat. “Thank you for all this, sir. This is… easier. With you here.”  
Killian groaned and shook his head. “I haven’t done anything yet.”  
“But you will. I know it.”

“Oy, mate. You don’t know how to take two seconds to yourself!”  
Killian threw Will the dirtiest glare he could muster with his splitting headache. He pushed past his friends and started to trudge up the stairs.  
“Killian?” Robin sounded more concerned than Will, but that only set Killian more on edge.  
“Don’t you have a plane to catch or something?”  
“And don’t you have some sleeping in to do?”  
Killian whirled at the top of the stairs ready to yell at them, but his friends’ sympathetic faces stopped him.  
“We heard, Kil,” Will said softly. “And we’re… we’re so sorry.”  
“Sorrier than we know how to say,” Robin added.  
Killian leaned his head against the wall and took a deep breath. “I was the closest responder. Ruby asked me to take the case. I’ll be fine.’  
Robin and Will exchanged glances and walked the rest of the way up the stairs to flank their friend. At their urging Killian staggered down the hall and unlocked his room. A small sliver of daylight peered through the curtains and illuminated the rumpled bed sheets. His pajama pants hung haphazardly from the back of the armchair in the corner.  
Robin guided him to sit on the edge of the bed.  
“Rest, mate,” he said. “They would want you to rest.”  
“It doesn’t matter what they’d want,” Killian snapped. “They’re dead. And I’m just trying to do my job.”  
“You don’t have to fool us,” Will said, crossing his arms. “We’re here for you. You need us to be here for you, Killian.”  
“Stop pretending like this nothing,” Robin said, resting his hand on Killian’s shoulder.  
Killian shook his friend off and stood up. “I came back for a shower. Not a lecture.”  
“Fine.” Will jutted his chin out. “But you can’t stop us from keeping an eye out for you. Not short of a restraining order.”  
“And you know better than most that we don’t much care for the spirit of the law anyhow,” Robin said.  
Killian looked from one face to the other and felt his resolve crumbling a little. “I need to keep working,” he said, not unkindly. “You don’t… you don’t know what it’s like… when it catches up to you…”  
“Alright, mate. Keep working.” Will clapped him on the back. “But when in it does catch up to you, don’t let yourself be alone.”  
Robin gave him a swift embrace before moving to the door. “I’m not leaving the states yet, Killian. Not until this is over.”  
“Rob…”  
“I mean it. You need support. Nothing else matters.”  
The door swung shut and Killian stared at it until the silence in the room made his ears ring. The bed was calling to him, tempting him with sleep, but he shook himself from his daze and headed to the bathroom.

With two glasses of water, four Advil, and a shower, Killian felt the slightest bit better. Dare he say, a little optimistic. A murder in Storybrooke was grim, but he’d worked far worse. He was so deep in thought as he hustled into the small office, that the man seated in front of the Sheriff’s desk caught him completely off guard.  
“Director Gold.”  
The older man stood, keeping both hands on his cane. Killian knew the cane was for show. Hidden within was a terrifyingly sharp blade. Poisoned, some rumors said.  
“Special Agent Jones,” the man said with a nod. His voice was low and rasped on the ends of his sentences. A shiver ran down Killian’s spine.  
“It’s Detective Jones these days, sir,” he said straightening his back conscientiously.   
“Ah, yes. You’re the one who stepped down. A nasty business, if I recall.”  
“Aye, sir.”  
“Well, I’m here to relieve you of having to deal with any more of that,” Gold smiled in a way that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re off this case.”  
Killian’s brain short-circuited. “Excuse me?”  
“You’re off this case, Detective,” Gold sneered. “Personal entanglements are not acceptable. Plus, this isn’t your jurisdiction.”  
Killian cleared his throat. “With all due respect, sir, it’s not yours either.”  
“Oh, isn’t it?” Gold smiled again and Killian resisted the overwhelming urge to punch the slimy man in the face. “This killing bears a remarkable resemblance to our missing serial killer. You remember him, don’t you, Jones?”  
Killian ground his teeth together. “I do, sir. But circumstantial evidence…”  
“Either way, you don’t belong here,” Gold said shortly. He brushed some imaginary lint from his suit sleeve and nodded to Killian in dismissal. “Have a good day, Detective.”  
Killian stood rooted to the floor, head whirling. He opened his mouth, trying to think of an objection when the door behind him swung open again.  
“Excuse me,” came a familiar voice. “I’m here to speak with Detective Jones.”  
Killian turned and came face to face with an angel. Not literally, he noted as he blinked repeatedly, but as close as a mortal could hope to come. Her blonde hair cascaded in loose curls down the shoulders of a red leather jacket. Her bright green eyes widened with sorrow and curiosity as she scanned the room. Her hands rested easily on her hips, as if she already owned the place. Killian felt his heart thud against his ribs and decided she could own the entire town if it suited her.  
The woman met his eyes and a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. “You’re staring, buddy.”  
“Oh, ah…” Killian quickly snapped his mouth shut, realizing that his jaw had been hanging open for the past ten seconds or so. He saw a spark of amusement in the blond beauty’s eyes.  
“I’m Emma Swan,” she said good-naturedly. She stepped forward and offered her hand. Killian clasped it, willing words to tumble out of his dry mouth.  
“Killian. Um, Jones. Detective Jones.”  
Emma dropped his hand and the sparkle in her eyes disappeared. “Nice to meet you in person, Detective. I’m here to see my parents.” She glanced over his shoulder at the lurking Gold.  
“And you are?”  
Gold stepped forward and extended one bony hand. “Assistant Director Gold, dearie. I’m with the FBI.”  
Emma slowly took the man’s hand and Killian wasn’t sure if it was his own imagination, but a shadow seemed to pass between the two.  
“Emma,” Gold said softly. “What a lovely name.” He brought her hand to his lips and slowly kissed it.  
The minute he lowered her hand, Emma snatched it back to her side. “Thank you for the kind welcome,” she said, rigidly. “What is the FBI doing here? If I may ask.”  
Gold wrapped his hands around the top of his cane once more. “We’ve worked on a similar case in the past, dearie. I’m here to investigate whether or not this case bears our killer’s hallmarks.”  
Emma scrunched her brow. “You think this is a serial killer?”  
Killian cleared his throat. “We don’t know. There was an unsolved string of murders years ago and some of the scene was…. reminiscent of those. But, we hardly know anything yet.”  
“And Detective Jones here,” Gold added, “should know nothing because he is not authorized to be working on this case.”  
Emma met Killian’s eyes again, confusion radiating from her. “What’s the problem, Detective?”  
Killian chewed on his lip for a few seconds. “I was a Special Agent on the serial case for years. I stepped down to become a Detective with the Boston Police Department. Technically, we’re in Maine which means I’m across state lines and thus, out of my jurisdiction.”  
Gold looked positively gleeful.  
Emma suddenly reached out and grabbed Killian’s arm. Her fingers were light and cool against his exposed forearm and he found himself distracted as he stared down at her small hand. She squeezed slightly and he looked back up into her eyes.  
“You seem to know a lot about that other case, Detective,” she said softly. “If it does turn out to be the same killer… I would feel better if you stayed.”  
“Ma’am?”  
“I would you like you to keep heading up this investigation.’  
“Miss Swan this is unprecedented….”  
“Write him up as a Consultant, if it makes you feel better, Mr. Gold,” Emma said, not taking her eyes off of Killian’s face  
Gold bristled and Killian felt his hopes rising just a little. Then Emma let go of his arm and the hopeful moment faded as suddenly as if she’d turned off the lights. He blinked, disoriented.  
“You would have me, ma’am?”  
“It’s just Emma,” she smiled gently. “And yes, someone like you should be working on my parents’ case. I would appreciate it more than you know.”  
Killian nodded and then tersely nodded to Gold. “Thank you for stopping by, sir,” he said. “I can take it from here.”  
Gold walked towards the door, slowly tapping his cane against the tile floor as he did so. At the door he turned around and sneered at Killian. “Don’t let your personal baggage get in the way of this investigation, Jones. You know what happens when you think about the past.”  
As the old man headed out the door, Kilian felt himself relax just a little.  
“I… uh… I’m flattered by your confidence in me, Miss Swan,” he stammered.  
“Really, it’s Emma,” she said. “Now I’d like to see my parents.”  
Killian kept one hand protectively on Emma’s elbow as he guided her through the busy hospital.   
“Dr. Victor Whale is the coroner here on staff,” he explained.  
Emma nodded slightly. “I remember him.”  
Killian couldn’t help but look at her curiously. “It seems odd that I don’t remember you. I grew up here.”  
“You like to assume things, Detective.”  
“If I’m going to call you Emma, you should probably just call me Killian,” he said, trying to cover his sudden embarrassment.  
“Alright then… Killian.”  
Killian was able to navigate to the morgue relatively easily. After rapping lightly on the door, he eased into the room where Dr. Whale was perched on a stool in the corner, busily scribbling some notes. Two bodies covered in white sheets lay on slabs in the middle of the room.   
Dr. Whale looked up from his clipboard. “Ah yes, Miss Swan. It’s good to see you again.” He glanced at the bodies. “Well.. you know what I mean.  
Emma straightened her back and stepped closer. “Show me,” she said, without hesitation.  
Victor walked to the first body and gently peeled the sheet back. Killian wanted to look away but he found himself once more staring into the pale face and cold eyes of Mary Margaret. He blinked, trying not to let the image linger.  
Emma nodded slightly. “That’s my mom.”  
Victor quickly uncovered David’s face as well.  
Emma trembled slightly. “And that’s Dad,” she said softly.  
Victor nodded and moved to recover them.  
“No, I want to see everything,” Emma said.  
Killian reached for her shoulder. “Emma, that’s probably not a good idea…”  
“What’s wrong, Detective?” she asked, a hint of ire in her voice. “You think I can’t handle it?”  
Killian took a step back. “It’s not that I think you couldn’t handle anything, love. But it’s… not an easy sight.”  
Emma met his eyes and he could see fire underneath her gaze. “I want to see them,” she said firmly.  
Victor shrugged and looked to Killian. He slowly gave the doctor a nod. Somehow he could tell he wasn’t going to win this fight.  
Victor slowly peeled the sheet back. The bodies were already undressed for preliminary autopsies, so Kilian politely averted his eyes, choosing instead to watch Emma’s face.  
He could see the moment of shock in her eyes followed by an immediate hardening. Her jaw tightened as she examined the carnage for several silent moments. Killian wondered if he should say something, but he knew all to well the many different forms of grieving.  
Finally Emma gave a nod and Victor impassively pulled the sheets back over the bodies.   
“Thank you Dr. Whale,” she said, still no hint of shakiness in her voice. “And thank you, Detective,” she said turning to Killian. “I look forward to staying updated on the case.”  
She turned on her heel and left the room quickly. Killian took a moment to thank Dr. Whale before hurrying after her.  
“Are you planning on staying in town then, love?”   
“How many times do I have to tell you my name?” She sounded a bit on edge and Killian berated himself for pushing.   
“Emma… right. I was just wondering if you had a place to stay.”  
Emma stopped short. “I suppose I can’t stay in my parents’ loft can I? It’s probably crawling with police.”  
“Not yet, but it will be soon,” he said sadly. He tried not to think about the place he associated with some of his happiest memories being torn apart and distributed amongst evidence lockers.  
“I’m sure Granny would be happy to offer a room though.”  
Emma nodded slowly. “I do have friends in town, but I would hate to impose on such short notice. If you could give me a ride back to the station for my car, I’ll head over to Granny’s to make arrangements.”  
Killian gave her a small supportive smile. “I’m staying at Granny’s as well. At least until the case is solved.”  
“Well then, you’ll be able to keep me updated easily, right neighbor?”  
Killian bit his lip wondering if he should tell her that the inner workings of police cases weren’t usually available to civilians, even relatives. She was extremely disarming and he hated to tell her no. He supposed that letting her think he was updating her as frequently as possible would do no harm.  
“That is a very convenient arrangement, lo… er… Emma.” He offered her his arm and was surprised when she tentatively took it.  
“Let’s get back to the station to fetch that chariot of yours.”  
She actually chuckled a little at that.

Graham came hurrying out the front door of the station just as Killian pulled up. He pulled up short as he saw Emma step out of the front seat.  
“Emma, you’re here!”  
“Graham!” she inclined her head. “It’s… good to see you again.”  
Graham took a tentative step and then opened his arms. Killian watched in amazement as the strong woman who had shown nearly no emotion so far crumbled into Graham’s arms. The young deputy wrapped his arms around her tightly and held her against his shoulder, cradling her head.  
“Everything is going to be okay, Em,” he said brokenly. “Detective Jones is taking care of everything. I promise.”  
“I know,” Killian heard her voice, muffled from Graham’s shirt. “I just… I miss them already.”  
Graham blinked far too quickly for it to be natural. “I do too.”  
Killian moved to go inside, leaving the two alone, but Graham reached out a hand to stop him. “Detective, Mayor Mills is becoming quite agitated. She’s been waiting in the interrogation room for over two hours now.”  
Killian growled under his breath. “I needed to take Emma to the morgue.”  
“I know and it’s alright,” Graham said. “I just wanted to warn you. The woman isn’t patient.”  
Killian raised an eyebrow at Graham’s tone. Apparently the deputy wasn’t overly fond of the uppity mayor.   
“You already have a suspect, Detective?” Emma asked, lifting her head from Graham’s shoulder, eyes shiny with unshed tears.  
Killian chewed at his lip. “Not a suspect, Emma. It’s just a routing questioning.”  
Emma furrowed her brow. “I… I’d like to stay. To hear the results.”  
“I don’t think…”  
“Please, Killian?”  
Something about her, some sort of light and warmth, pulled at Killian. He felt compelled to nod and walked with her into the station. She seated herself in one of the visitors’ chairs against the wall.  
“Graham will keep me company. You go on to your interrogation.”  
Killian felt a slight pang of jealousy as Graham sat next to her and took her hand in his own. He tried not to dwell on it as he pushed through the door and walked down the hall to the interrogation room.  
“Nice of you to finally show up to work, Detective,” Regina spat.  
She wasn’t seated at the table. She was standing in the corner, as if she’d been pacing.  
Killian seated himself at the table. “Please, Mayor Mills. I’m in the middle of conducting a murder investigation, if you didn’t remember.” He didn’t try to hide the bite behind his words. The regal mayor was beginning to get under his skin.  
“Well I should be in the middle of running a town hall meeting. I didn’t do anything and I would very much like you to move on with your little investigation!”  
Killian sighed wearily. “Well then let’s get on with it. Please sit.”  
Regina stared suspiciously at him before walking primly to her chair and seating herself. Killian flipped on the microphone and ran through the date, time and basic case details before leaning back and focusing on the irate woman.  
“Could you please state your name?”  
“Regina Sarah Mills.”  
“Occupation?”  
She glared at him. “Mayor of Storybrooke, Maine.”  
“The bodies of Mary Margaret Nolan and Sheriff David Nolan were discovered in this crypt by Deputy Sheriff Graham Humbert early this morning.” He opened his case folder and slid across a photograph of the crypt. “This is your family crypt, correct?”  
“Yes. That crypt has been in my family for three generations. You can check the lineage at the town hall, I’m sure. All the paper work is in order.”  
Killian nodded slowly.  
“Do you have a groundskeeper who takes care of your crypt specifically?”  
“Not specifically,” she said. “There is a city employed groundskeeper that takes care of the graveyard. But no one except for me ever goes in the crypt itself. It’s kept locked for a reason.”   
Killian rested his elbows on the table gently. “Where were you between the hours of 10 o’clock and 3 o’clock last night?”  
Regina’s look could have melted stone. “Asleep, Detective.”  
“Do you have an alibi?”  
“No. Do you keep a personal alibi in your bedroom?”  
Killian sighed. “Routine questioning, Ms. Mills,” he reminded. She sat back a little.  
“Have you seen any suspicious activity around the graveyard and specifically your crypt in the past few days?”  
“No, I have not.”  
“What about around you or your house? Someone perhaps looking for a key?”  
She gave a wry smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “There’s always suspicious activity outside the house of a politician, Detective.”  
Killian raised an eyebrow at her.  
“I am not loved by everyone on my city council, Detective,” Regina said stiffly. Killian resisted the urge to roll his eyes as she continued. “I get the usual amount of trespassers, graffiti, threatening notes and phone calls. But in the past week or so, no more than usual.”  
“You said not everyone on city council cares for you,” Killian said. “What about Sheriff Nolan? Is he one that disagreed with you often?”  
“Only at every twist and turn,” Regina sneered. “Sheriff Nolan was an idealist with no real head for government. He was only elected sheriff because of the sort of people who hear grand ideals and airy sentiments and fall for them. Do I get my hands dirty every once in a while, running this town? Do I make compromises for the good of everyone? Yes. And that’s what keeps this place running smoothly, whether the little people want to hear about it or not.”  
“And Dave… Sheriff Nolan didn’t care for that style?” Killian asked.  
“No, he didn’t. We fought almost constantly, I won’t bother denying that. But that feud has been going on for years. If you think I suddenly lost my patience and decided to murder him in my own crypt, you’re out of your mind,” Regina snapped.  
Killian sighed. “Any other enemies who might have done this? Someone who didn’t care for you or the Nolans?”  
Regina pursed her lips. “I don’t know of anyone who wouldn’t have cared for us both. Most people sided with one or the other.”  
Killian noted the time and flipped off the microphone. “Thank you for your time, Mayor Mills. We’ll be in touch.”  
Regina harrumphed and made for the door. Killian cleared his throat and she paused with her hand on the knob.  
“I would appreciate your discretion about this, Mayor Mills.”  
“Oh I won’t say a word, Detective,” Regina said breezily. “But rumors spread quickly in Storybrooke. I’d hurry if I were you.”


	3. Chapter 3

Emma let the heavy duffel bag slide from her shoulder with a thump. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in one of Granny’s rooms. Probably not since first or second grade, using one as a hiding place after stealing an entire batch of chocolate chip cookies from the kindly woman. Emma couldn’t help but smile at the memory. Granny wasn’t so kindly to young cookie thieves.  
Granny’s eyes hadn’t lit up upon seeing Emma this time. No teasing smile or good-natured barb passed between them. Just a look of pity.  
Emma sighed and sank down on the edge of the bed. She closed her eyes and called upon the magic of the gods to soothe her mind and keep her head clear. Grief was a human emotion and Zeus had it made it clear that it was her human side that would make this assignment difficult. It had already thwarted her senses at the morgue. Despite her best efforts and the bodies of her parents practically screaming at her for justice, she couldn’t pick up traces of the killer. She could only assume it was shock and sorrow at the sight of their mutilations. Gaping holes ripped straight through their chests. She closed her eyes and focused on keeping her breathing steady and peaceful.  
Maybe it was the disarming detective that had thrown her off. Killian Jones. She recalled the way his eyes had grown pained in the morgue and again at the station after her moment of weakness with Graham. In all her years of hunting murderers, she had never seen an investigator treat a crime so… personally.  
A light tapping at the door awoke Emma from her thoughts with a start. Easing her weight off of the mattress she moved to the door and cracked it open.  
“Ruby?”  
The slender brunette gave a little shrug and a half-hearted smile. “Hey.”  
Emma flung the door wide open and threw her arms around the woman. Ruby didn’t hesitate as she wrapped Emma in a hug with strength that didn’t show through her small frame.  
Emma was surprised to find tears wetting her eyes.  
“What are you doing here?”  
Ruby pulled back long enough to brush some stray hair from Emma’s eyes and give her a another watery smile. “I couldn’t leave my best friend alone. Not for this.”  
Emma buried her face in Ruby’s shoulder and allowed herself to cry for the second time that day.

Killian had hoped a new day would prove to be exactly what he needed, but after a restless night of tossing and turning, he only felt more disheartened. Especially as he stared at the autopsy report in front of him that was all too predictable.  
“Coffee, Jones?”  
Killian hummed his appreciation as Graham handed him a styrofoam cup filled with the aromatic drink.  
“How early were you here?”  
Graham shrugged. “I think I came in around five. I couldn’t sleep.”  
Killian winced as he burned his tongue with his first sip. “You neither, huh?”  
Graham’s foot bounced up and down as he kept his eyes on the folder in front of Killian.  
“So how’s the autopsy report look? Anything useful?”  
Killian sighed and rifled through the pages again, passing swiftly over the graphic pictures.  
“Nothing we didn’t already know. The guy was clean. No DNA evidence.” He swallowed thickly. “Their hearts were completely torn from their chests. If not the actual cause of death, it was done immediately following.”  
Graham looked down at his clasped hands, face pale.  
Killian took a deep breath. “Which all matches with what we know. Or what we don’t know, as it is.”  
“Which is…?” Graham asked, looking back up at the detective.  
Killian took another careful sip and savored the warmth that spilled down his throat.  
“Everything matches the profile of one of the most dangerous serial killers the FBI ever attempted to catch. He hasn’t been heard from in years, but if this is him…”  
Killian didn’t finish his thoughts out loud, choosing to lean back in his chair and contemplate the ceiling in silence.  
Graham coughed. “How do you know about this guy anyways?”  
Killian sighed and closed his eyes. “I was a lead on the case, back when I was part of the FBI. I know we got close to him before I stepped down. Close enough that he was scared and he went dormant.”  
Graham digested the information. “And you stepped down?”  
Killian sat forward in his chair again, meeting Graham’s dark-circled eyes. “He started to leave personal messages at his scenes. Messages for me. Telling me he would kill my loved ones unless I stopped. And he included details about them and me. Things he shouldn’t have known.” Killian paused, unwillingly recalling the scenes. “It was unnerving.”  
“But that’s not all,” Graham said slowly.  
“No.” Killian grabbed his coffee cup again. “But the rest was a private decision. It’s not important.”  
Graham must have heard the tone shift in Killian’s voice because he seemed to understand that the conversation was over. The younger man gave him a nod and moved out of the sheriff’s office and into the main room to the deputy desk. Killian felt a twinge of fondness as he watched the deputy leave. The man was full of determination, despite the enormity of the crime they were facing down. He was definitely growing on Killian. 

A long night of catching up with Ruby, followed by a long breakfast composed of Granny’s chocolate chip pancakes and some much needed coffee, actually helped Emma relax a little. However, as the morning hours stretched towards noon, she knew there was one more important part of her routine she needed to attend to in order to be truly ready for the day before her.  
Emma delicately unfolded the short collapsible legs of the small, wooden contraption she’d brought in from the trunk of her bug. Once upright, it looked like a miniature bench, perhaps big enough for a toddler to be seated on comfortably. The light-weight, varnished wood was covered in intricate carvings along the edges and the legs, but the top remained bare and smooth. Emma skimmed her hand along the top fondly, before fetching a pillow from the bed and lying it in front of the bench to give her knees a little cushion as she knelt and then sat back on her heels. From her duffel bag she produced an unscented white candle and a small jar filled with dried laurel leaves. Uncapping the candle and placing it in the center of her tiny altar, Emma took a deep breath and focused her magic towards it. She felt the familiar power of Zeus rush through her and when she opened her eyes the candle flickered with a tiny flame. The magic wasn’t strictly necessary for her time of communion with the ancient god, but it always made Emma feel closer to him.  
Fishing into her jar, Emma extracted a single leaf and laid it in front of the candle. Then she bowed her head and let her mind fill with silent pleas to Zeus. Much like her pleas only two days earlier when she first felt her parents’ blood crying out for justice. She knew instantly that they were dead. She waited anxiously for the phone call from the police, knowing that as always, she needed to act as much as possible within the parameters of humanity’s law. It was difficult to restrain a harpy’s natural instinct to serve the justice of the gods, but patience generally paid off when it came to humans. Except now.  
Emma’s eyes shot open as she realized that her prayerful state was not resulting in peace or clearness of mind. Instead, anger was boiling in her veins. The pull of her parents’ blood was once again first and foremost in her mind, calling her to the graveyard where their hearts were yanked from their chests. The edges of the dry leaf in front of her began to singe around the edges as her magic flared.  
“Em? Are you ready to go?”  
Ruby’s familiar voice only slightly calmed her simmering rage slightly. She took a deep breath and plucked up the leaf before it could burst into a full flame. She laid it carefully on the candle flame and made sure it caught as she tried to direct her thoughts back into a more reverent state before standing and going to the door.  
“Emma?”  
“I’m almost ready, yeah…” Emma said, a little breathlessly. She let Ruby step into the room as she hurried to grab her jacket from the corner chair.  
Ruby nodded at the altar with a slight smile. “Still into that religious stuff, huh?”  
The smile Emma gave her friend in return was genuine. Unlike many people, Ruby’s skepticism of Emma’s religion was just that, untainted by maliciousness or ill-intent. “Yeah, still into the religious stuff.”  
Ruby took a deep sniff of the burning laurel and scrunched her nose. “Well, I hope you said some prayers for guidance in this crazy scheme of yours. We could get in real trouble for this.”  
“Don’t worry I did.” Emma bent over and blew the candle out with a short huff. “Let’s go.”

Ruby parked them a little short of the peak of the cemetery. When Emma saw the imposing figure of the mayoral family crypt behind the crime tape, she felt more than a tinge of suspicion.  
“So she is a suspect,” Emma muttered.  
“What?”  
“Nothing.”  
Emma didn’t meet Ruby’s look, knowing she’d only see concern mixed with pity. She didn’t need either right now.  
With more than twenty-four hours since the initial discovery of the bodies, the crime scene was basically unattended. Emma and Ruby easily circumvented the single volunteer police lackey by approaching the scene from the back of the crypt. As the duo crept around the side, Ruby was clearly tense. When they came to the slightly open door, Ruby caught her friend’s arm.  
“Em, I want to help, but this…”  
“Is how we figure out who murdered my parents, Ruby,” Emma said coldly. She didn’t bother letting her friend respond as she shoved her way into the crypt and clicked on her flashlight.  
The scent of blood washed over her in a dizzying wave, but stronger than that was the imprint of two murdered souls left in the room, pleading for their god to hear them. Emma felt sick.  
“Oh, god…”  
Ruby’s flashlight beam was trained on the blood stains on the floor on either side of the coffin. Emma had seen enough death in her life to recognize a fatal amount of blood, even when mostly dried. She swallowed back bile and forced herself to concentrate on the souls.  
As she circled the interior slowly, her footsteps echoed ominously in the stone covered space.  
“Emma.” Ruby shivered. “There’s nothing left here.”  
Emma ignored her and let her flashlight beam trail along the coffin itself.  
“They were propped up against the coffin?” she asked.  
“Yeah, I think so…” Ruby’s voice was meek, very unlike her usual demeanor.  
Emma crouched and shuffled forward a bit so that her toes were centimeters from the blood-coated tiles. The edges of the dried puddles were spread out in a jagged, uneven pattern, consistent with the slightly warped floor. The line of the stain along the coffin was perfectly straight, matching the edge of the coffin itself. Emma studied the perfectly clean marble of the coffin, turning the sight over in her head. Something about it nagged her.  
“Emma…”  
“The floor slopes down a little here, doesn’t it?” Emma traced the floor lightly with the palm of her hand, feeling the way it dipped towards the center of the room, just slightly.  
“Emma.”  
“What, Ruby?!” Emma snapped, turning her beam suddenly towards her friend.  
Ruby was peering out the door, face pale.  
“Killian just pulled up.”  
Emma blinked and hurried to join her friend in the doorway. Sure enough, Emma recognized her father’s – no, the sheriff car – parked at the edge of the marked off area. The detective, Killian, was standing next to it, exchanging words with the volunteer on duty.  
Emma worried her lip with her teeth for a few seconds. She felt a kindred spirit in Killian and she knew that he was a man she could trust, but would that be enough if he caught her snooping around a crime scene?  
“You know him, right Ruby?” Emma whispered. “He won’t get mad at you.”  
Ruby gave her a look that clearly said she was crazy.  
“Or we could just get out of here…” Emma said with a slight roll of her eyes.  
“Exactly.”  
Emma took a deep breath as she stepped out of the crypt behind her friend and into the fresher air and crisp autumn sunshine. The souls of her parents were muted now, but still clearly audible.  
“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’ll be back.”  
The two slunk around towards the back of the crypt, quickly and quietly. As they rounded the last corner, Ruby ran smack into somebody standing in the shadows. She stumbled backwards into Emma throwing them both off balance and nearly sending them careening to the ground.  
“Well, if this isn’t just who I was looking for?”  
Emma shook her head to clear the cobwebs and took in the sight of a skinny man with slightly graying hair. The pressed suit hanging loosely around his shoulders looked out of place against the forest backdrop. So did his Cheshire cat smile.  
“Who are you?” Emma demanded a little abruptly.  
Undeterred, the man stuck out his hand and Emma took it by instinct. “Sydney Glass, editor of the Storybrooke Mirror.”  
Ruby mumbled something that sounded incredibly inappropriate and Emma had to restrain herself from following suit.  
“Um, nice to meet you, Mr. Glass, but I really need to…”  
“How do you feel about your parents’ murder, Ms. Swan?” he jumped in. Emma caught her breath trying to comprehend his audacity.  
“Well…”  
“What about the cruelty of the murder? Is it true that their hearts were ripped straight from their chests?”  
The man produced a small microphone from seemingly nowhere and shoved it towards Emma’s face with gusto.  
“I’m sorry I can’t…”  
“Is it true that you don’t trust the police, Ms. Swan? Is that why you’re here conducting your own investigation?”  
“Apparently so.”  
Emma thought she was past the days of being cowed by a human voice, but Killian’s tone was so icy that she felt a physical shiver pass across her skin.  
All three trespassers turned to meet the stony gaze of the detective as he emerged from around the corner of the crypt. Sydney’s smile only dimmed slightly.  
“Ah, Detective Jones! Just the person I was…”  
“We have a scheduled interview at three o’clock, Mr. Glass,” Killian said, bitingly.  
The man didn’t falter. “Well, then I’ll just finish my interview with Ms. Swan before…”  
“I don’t think so,” Killian said.  
Sydney’s smile finally disappeared entirely.  
“No offense, Detective, but I’m in the middle of conducting…”  
“I don’t care. You’re on my crime scene. Now leave.”  
Sydney blustered a little bit, but with Killian looming over him, the reporter seemed to think better of his venture and turned to hike back towards the road.  
Emma barely had time to steel herself before Killian’s stormy eyes turned towards her.  
“Emma Swan.”  
She swallowed. “Detective, I apologize for…”  
“This is a crime. You’re trespassing on a crime scene. You understand that, right?”  
“Killian, go easy,” Ruby piped up.  
“Shut up, Ruby,” he growled. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”  
To Emma’s surprise, Ruby shut up.  
“Swan, I need you to walk away. Before I’m forced to take you down to the station.”  
Emma stiffened her spine and tilted her chin towards him. “First I need to tell you something about the scene. I noticed something in the crypt.”  
She felt Ruby reach for her, but she quickly moved her arm out of range.  
Killian’s face grew even darker. “You were in the crypt?”  
“Yes, and the way the blood was pooling near the coffin…”  
“Ms. Swan, you are not a crime scene technician. You are not a detective. I know you are grieving and confused, but you need to never come near this crypt again.”  
Emma felt the blood rushing to her cheeks. “I understand, Detective Jones.”  
She turned and slipped under the police tape, not waiting even as Ruby yelled after her. She marched at double speed back to the car and then stood still as stone until Ruby caught up to her, huffing for breath.  
“Emma, what did…”  
“Let’s just go,” Emma spat. She glanced back up the hill and watched Killian’s dark figure move around and into the crypt.  
“But Emma…”  
She met Ruby’s eyes and saw her friend’s confusion. “What were you trying to tell him about the coffin?”  
Emma hesitated then yanked open the door. “I think there’s more to that crypt. I think there’s something underneath the coffin.”


End file.
